


Until Dawn

by BelowZenith



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 00:13:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3360599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelowZenith/pseuds/BelowZenith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian experiences some unexpected kindness while researching Corypheus' lineage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until Dawn

Haaman Adaar's hands were shaking as he carried a cup of tea upstairs toward the library. It was infinitely late at night and a small part of him hoped that Dorian wouldn't be there. The Inquisitor paused near the top of the steps; thankful the castle walls were still concealing him from anyone on the second floor. He hadn't even thought about what he would say. Dorian had a way of disarming him verbally. He made Haaman feel big, clumsy, oafish, and hopeful. 

The Inquisitor was so lost in thought that he didn't hear Helsima approach, "Good night, Lord Inquisitor," she said in that unnerving monotone of the tranquil.

"Good night, Helsima." He nodded at the Tranquil as she headed down the stairs . If Dorian had not heard him come up the stairs, the mage certainly knew of his presence now.

Haaman cradled the cup in both of his hands. He was a Vashoth and as such, he stood a foot taller than most humans. The furniture in Skyhold was always a bit too small for him. Dishes looked like child's playthings when he handled them. Normally he would have found this amusing, but right now all he could think of was Dorian. Haaman moved awkwardly as he tried not to spill a drop of the tea. He made his way up the remaining steps. 

Dorian was sitting at a table piled haphazardly with books of all sizes. His hair was disheveled, which was unusual. His moustache however, was still impeccably waxed. He looked up at Haaman, bleary-eyed and managed a half-smile.

The Inquisitor swallowed hard and cleared his throat, "I-I thought you could use some tea." he walked forward presenting the cup with both hands and set it down in front of the mage.

"That was very kind of you." Dorian nodded, "I'm afraid I've still had no luck at tracing Corypheus' lineage. I'm missing something. I'm just not sure what..." Dorian's voice trailed off and he looked straight ahead.

"That's not why I--," Haaman stopped and then started, "I didn't come up here for a status report, Dorian."

Dorian froze for a fraction of a second. Was that softness he had heard in the Inquisitor's voice? He turned with his whole body to face the other man. He surveyed Haaman curiously. 

"Of course not. Not at this ungodly hour, anyway. What's on your mind?" Dorian asked as he extended his hand toward the empty chair next to him. 

Haaman sat down, grateful to be off of his feet. "You've been researching this for three nights straight now. You don't look as if you have been getting enough rest. I guess I was - "

"Oh my, dear Inquisitor, are you worried about me? Fear not. I can take care of myself. Besides I'm the only one here who is fluent in Tevene," Dorian interrupted. 

The mage waved his hand dismissively and sniffed the tea that was placed in front of him. It was not up to his standards. Still, he took a drink and managed a straight face as he swallowed.

"Actually, I might be able to help. I can read Tevene. My mother taught it to me as a child," the Inquisitor hesitated and then continued, "Before she became Tal-Vashoth, she used to spy on your countrymen."

"That figures! You are full of surprises," Dorian shook his head, chuckling. "We are quite the pair. Your mother used to be Ben-Hassrath. And now, here I am, trying to help you save the world."

Dorian's amusement gave rise to one of those bright, unrestricted fits of laughter that can only occur in the small hours of the morning. Haaman watched him with rapt attention. He was trying to memorize how Dorian's shoulders shook, how his mouth was unabashedly open, and how he managed to use his entire body when he laughed. Animated like this, the magister's son was positively boyish. The inquisitor could not help but be enthralled.

When the laughter subsided, Dorian put a hand on the Vashoth's shoulder. "You know, I've talked so much about my family. I've never heard you talk about yours until now, Haaman."

"No one has called me by my first name since the Conclave. Everyone calls me Inquisitor," Haaman paused and looked into Dorian's grey-green eyes for a long while, "Thank you," he said without looking away.

Dorian felt something catch in his throat as Haaman's arm wrapped around his shoulders. Haaman talked about his sisters, his parents, and about growing up in a homeland that always viewed him as an outsider. Dorian rested his head on the Vashoth's chest; content just to listen. They had settled into a comfortable quiet for some time when the sun started to rise. The rookery above them came alive with noise. The two men eased apart slowly. Neither of them wanted to face the new day.

It was Dorian who broke the silence. "Look, this doesn't have to mean anything."

"This meant everything, Dorian," Haaman said without thinking. The statement hung in the air between them. 

Dorian looked up at him feeling perplexed and at a loss for words.

"I'll see you tomorrow night. Maybe we'll actually get some work done," Haaman said as he stood up to leave, "You should get some rest." 

He bent down and pressed his lips to Dorian's forehead, gently. Dorian closed eyes, enjoying the warmth. Neither of them dared to move for a few heartbeats. The Inquisitor pulled away reluctantly. 

"Sweet dreams, Dorian," Haaman whispered. His lips were a hair's breadth away from the mage's ear. Dorian's eyes remained closed. 

"Next time, bring better tea, Haaman," Dorian shouted, opening his eyes just in time to see the other man round the corner.

For the first time, the Inquisitor's laughter rang through the halls of Skyhold. 


End file.
